the Rift


[PRIVATE] SURVIVING [swp collecting]

Mihtal Posts: 26
Dragon's Throat Mare atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.0 :: 8 years HP: 56.0 | Buff: Novice
Reli
#1
Not unsurprisingly, I don’t wander very far when the strange sea-creature appears to dismiss us. I thread through the trees, imagining the wooded barriers that grow between me and them, but I don’t travel fast. My hooves shuffle through the underbrush, still half-frozen in the wake of winter, the brittle leaves and twigs crunching unceremoniously beneath the weight of my travel-starved body. I can see the tips of my feet flash into my vision with every step—moving mindlessly, almost seeming to press forward by a will other than my own.

I suppress a sigh, instead breathing in a deep gasp that hitches in my throat. What am I doing? Looking for bones, apparently. Looking for death. I imagine that it wouldn’t be too difficult, too haunted as I am by the memories and wounds that continue to gnaw and grind at every bone and muscle that is me. Every day—every hour, every second—I feel the weight as they breed and multiply. I might as well be a pack animal from the burdens that are chained to my shoulders (if only they could see—what would happen then?). I don’t know that I want to find out.

Suddenly I’m stumbling—

I’m just barely able to catch myself before I crumble completely. My lips pull into a wince as I fall to my knees (I can feel the skin breaking into shallow wounds, and I relish in the pain, drinking it like holy water because—easier to grasp than my psychological injuries—it is my salvation).

A moment or two passes before I right myself again, grunting with the effort. Long lashes flutter over my eyes as the fresh cuts sear for a delicious glimpse of relief, my nostrils flaring, quivering, before I lower my gaze. The rotted, hollow carcass of a log had given out, revealing a trove of yellowed bones beneath. Slowly (numbly, almost) I bring my head down, inspecting the deep, black sockets that stare back at me. “Who were you, once?” I murmur almost unintelligibly, far too comfortable by the sudden face of death that has greeted me. I almost smirk.

So—it has found me.


notes; yay so excited!
“Speech.”
mihtal

image | coding
@Sunjata
please tag Mihtal in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.

Sunjata Posts: 69
Dragon's Throat Sleuth atk: 4.5 | def: 10 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 66 | Buff: NOVICE
Andikan :: Nile Crocodile :: Scream Skylark
#2

S  U  N  J  A  T  A

He slipped from the Endless Blue back toward the Rotunda where the announcement had been made. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he needed to try and find other ways to go about getting more accomplished rather than watching another blue pegasus from the Throat try and electrocute everything. Surely that had to be the reason. His wings remained tight to his side as he shuffled through the overgrowth, grabbing bones here and there and placing them in a pile along his back where his wings created the perfect little basket.

And as he approached, a creature captured his attention. She seemed to be staring at something in the earth, and as he looked upon her he marveled at her beauty. Oh how he hadn’t seen others as beautiful marked as she, nor had he been so bold as of late to approach such beings. But Kisamoa had tasked them with cleaning, and it made for the perfect icebreaker. So he changed his direction, diverging toward the unicorn and placing a gentle charming smile upon his face. “Do you need any help, pragtige?” He questioned her, turning his body in a 3/4 view so she could see his growing pile of bones and dead twigs.

"Talk."

”Pagtige” - beautiful



We slipped into midnight
like the death of the sun.
img credits


Sorry it's shorter than yours, but I imagine we can speed thread this <33 @Mihtal :D

Pixel by bronzehalo.deviantart.com
Force/Magic permitted so long as it doesn't permanently harm him.
Please tag in every post!

Mihtal Posts: 26
Dragon's Throat Mare atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.0 :: 8 years HP: 56.0 | Buff: Novice
Reli
#3
I stare at the yellowed, cracked skull for longer than I should (mesmerized, almost); captivated by the black, bottomless sockets (comforting in their lack of emotion, lack of judgement), and far too enticed by the cold, numbing hand of death. I haven’t had to search for him long. Like an old friend, he has found me, welcomed me, and has reached with bony, long hands to grasp (caress) my broken mind. As if the pieces could be wrapped and patched together again, I feel his skeletal embrace. I imagine what it would be like for it to be all over—released, so easy, like the exhale of a breath

But reality is quick to tether me to my wounds.

Too consumed in the walls I have put up against the world, I hadn’t noticed the stallion’s approach. His words stretch like cracks against my self-isolation, ringing and whipping and grabbing into the dull silence I had settled into (like the quietness of water as you sink to the bottom—numbing, noiseless, almost peaceful). But now I’m dragged to the surface—spitting and choking on the waves that writhe again and again (never ending) over my head.

My surprise is obvious. Every little muscle is abruptly taught, nostrils quivering, and my eyes wide as my head snaps gracelessly in the stranger’s direction. “Uhmm,” I stumble over my own tongue, trying to swallow against the sudden knot in my throat and hear over the thundering of my heartbeat in my ears. It’s almost impossible.

“I don’t know. Perhaps you can tell me, vreemdeling,” I trip awkwardly over the dialect, but the word is clear enough, despite the trembling beneath my tone. Somehow my heart has leapt into my throat. I shake my head once, blinking rapidly and trying not to stare at the winged stallion. If his language hadn’t given him away, then his appearance might have—bright and colorful like many Dorobians; I have seen and heard many things in my years among the desert sands. “Som-mige maats—kappy kan…lekker wees,” I try to steady my voice, but the foreign language is difficult nonetheless.

I eye him for a moment, trying to gauge how he will react—and wondering whether I’m more terrified or curious myself. Memories, unbidden, flutter to the forefront of my mind. Of similarly foreign words, rough tongues, and brazen requests—balmy nights spent in anything but satisfaction and kindness. “You’re far from home, no?” I continue quickly, more to distract myself than anything.


notes; vreemdeling : stranger
sommige maatskappy kan lekker wees : some company might be nice
“Speech.”
mihtal

image | coding
@Sunjata
please tag Mihtal in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.

Sunjata Posts: 69
Dragon's Throat Sleuth atk: 4.5 | def: 10 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 66 | Buff: NOVICE
Andikan :: Nile Crocodile :: Scream Skylark
#4

S  U  N  J  A  T  A

Sunjata began to smile apologetically as his sudden appearance seemed to surprise the mare. However, what happened next the bluejay wasn’t expecting. Suddenly, as she began to speak in the common tongue of Helovia, she uttered a simple word (albeit shaky, but there despite that) in his native tongue. His navy rimmed ears perked to hers and his smile suddenly faltered. Then, she wasn’t even done yet. She continued to speak in his language and a grin began to spread across his lips in surprise and shock. Immediately, he tried to inch closer to her, still giving her space but feeling the urge to get closer to her.

He went to acknowledge her comment at the fact that some company would be nice, but before the man had a chance to clear his boggled mind at the shock of such an encounter, she was speaking once more. “Yes, very far.” He admitted, looking away from her briefly. “You seem far from home as well – tell me, lief, how do you know the language of my people?” He questioned casually, not in a threatening way as he might have when he first arrived in Helovia. While his mindset was changing, he figured it was probably due to the testosterone that was overflowing within his body.

After awaiting a response, he turned his head toward the bones that seemed to capture the mare’s attention. “If you want, you can put those up here with the other things I’ve gathered and I can take them back to the large pile?” He offered in as gentlemanly a voice as he could – despite the thick accent of Korofi lacing his every word. “My names Sunjata, by the way.” He offered another small smile in her direction, blue gaze seeking out her gaze if she were to give it.

"Talk."

”lief” - love



We slipped into midnight
like the death of the sun.
img credits


GETTING BETTER @Mihtal

Pixel by bronzehalo.deviantart.com
Force/Magic permitted so long as it doesn't permanently harm him.
Please tag in every post!

Mihtal Posts: 26
Dragon's Throat Mare atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.0 :: 8 years HP: 56.0 | Buff: Novice
Reli
#5
If I were an individual more inclined to humor, then the stallion’s reaction to my foreign words would have made me laugh. Indeed, it is entertaining how his eyes grow wide, and his tongue is seemingly tied by something like shock or astonishment. Flabbergasted. As it is, I feel a hollow tug upward on my lips, but little more than that. Honestly, more than anything, I’m grateful for the moment of relief, when I can seize his bewilderment and gather the pieces of myself, trying to mold something that is at least close to composed. I can only hope that the unfamiliarity between us will blind his eyes to the emptiness in my expression.

When the winged stranger manages to speak again, I preoccupy my gaze with the pile of bones at my feet, though an ear twitches at his word of endearment (love, beauty, darling, angel—I have been called all those and more. I have long-since learned there is no meaning in a title; they’re just words thrown like a lacy curtain over the ugliness and greed of reality). I assure myself that he didn’t notice my reaction—how my features wilted, how the corners of my eyes hardened—because it had been spoken so off-handedly, so casually.

I can’t help but wonder if this man has, at one time, indulged in the pleasures of the desert oasis. No man—even a gentleman—is immune to the lure of flesh and vacant promises. I do not recognize him myself (and I could never forget a face, try as I might) but I had only been a single, blemished jewel in a whole inventory of riches.

“There is a large patchwork of cultures where I come from. Individuals, of many lands, come and go,” I hear my voice drifting off towards the end, and I close my lips, glancing to the stallion briefly. I purposefully skirt around the core of his question, far from comfortable with the specifics and subsequent judgement that follows. It is only a matter of time, surely, but I cling to my secrets (black and putrefied as they are). “Yours is not a people excluded in this,” I cannot control the inkling of pointedness that slips into my tone, making verdicts of my own.

At this point, I’m aware that he has crept closer to me, and I can feel his gaze burning through the curtain of hair that has fallen across my face. Tilting my head, I allow my forelock to slide far enough to fall over my cheek instead, making brief eye contact with his startlingly blue gaze before looking away modestly. “Thank you,” I murmur in response to his offer, avoiding my own introduction as I lift the splintered skull with my teeth. I walk to him with stiff steps, reminded of my recently wounded knees, and place the skull on top of the pile on his back. “Looks like you’ve been working hard already,” I muse out loud, only partly to Sunjata.

Returning to my safe spot close to the crumbled old log, I lower my head to snatch another bone, but pause. “I’m—” I take a deep breath, not really understanding why it’s so hard, “I’m Mihtal.” I wait silently for a moment, avoiding his eye and wondering if he knows my native language, before I complete my initial action of collecting another bone. Placing it next to the skull, I shuffle back a few steps, not entirely comfortable with close proximity. “Do you happen to know why we’re doing this? Who was that creature that tasked us with this?” I look to the stallion out of the corner of my eye, reaching for another bone.


“Speech.”
mihtal

image | coding
@Sunjata
please tag Mihtal in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.

Sunjata Posts: 69
Dragon's Throat Sleuth atk: 4.5 | def: 10 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 66 | Buff: NOVICE
Andikan :: Nile Crocodile :: Scream Skylark
#6

S  U  N  J  A  T  A

As she began to speak of her homeland, the pieces began to filter themselves together. She was beautiful, remarkably so. It only seemed to make sense where she might have come from. And while Sunjata had never actually ventured there himself (being a prince was a lot of work to keep things from going insane if you were spotted places you shouldn’t have been), his friends had often ventured to the land of pleasure. And with that realization, Sunjata began to pull his head into his chest slightly, almost awkwardly as he realized. He had no problem laying with a woman, but he was also one to wonder how she felt about the matter. And every time he decided to lay with another, he was threatened with the idea of his sister and how she felt of such matters.

Sex wasn’t exactly something that the blue jay did with disregard. And so, he wondered what kind of things she had witnessed being a part of that other kind of world. When she thanked him, his ears perked further and his head lifted from being originally tucked in an awkward stance – as if he regretted asking how she knew his language. “You’re welcome.” He breathed effortlessly, even if his chest felt slightly tight as everything came at him. “Yes, believe it or not there’s a lot of things out here.” He admitted, unsure of what the correct wording might be for such an act.

And when she gave him her name, he offered her a gentle smile as she avoided his gaze. Concern laced itself over his ink striped face as his smile began to fall. He wanted to remark on her name, but she was quick to change the subject as she asked him what the plan was for this area. He shrugged lightly, careful to not drop the bones that sat across his back. “I don’t know much more than you do. When he arrived, he said the gods had asked him to be in charge of clearing these lands. And so, we did. This is the last piece to his puzzle it seems.” He admitted quietly while his gaze tried to view her face. “What do you think it’s about?” He questioned, genuinely curious what kind of ideas she might have.

"Talk."

”lief” - love



We slipped into midnight
like the death of the sun.
img credits


@Mihtal <3

Pixel by bronzehalo.deviantart.com
Force/Magic permitted so long as it doesn't permanently harm him.
Please tag in every post!

Mihtal Posts: 26
Dragon's Throat Mare atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.0 :: 8 years HP: 56.0 | Buff: Novice
Reli
#7
I barely notice the winged stallion’s discomfort. The majority of my focus is directed downwards, trailing along the broken underbrush and rotted bones that lay scattered around my feet. I can see enough from my peripheral vision to know that he has put the pieces together—that he knows what sin city I have come from, what I have done, and the black immoralities that stain every supple curve and soft line of my skin. I lean the weight of my body backwards without actually moving my hooves, and lower my head so that my hair falls across my face, momentarily hiding him from my view.

The hot knot in my stomach twists tighter, though I am relieved when he seems reluctant to pursue that particular topic himself. It is part of a past I wish to forget and leave behind, no matter how the memories (the ghosts of a touch, the whispers of a caress long ago on nights of balmy breezes and fervent breaths) persistently cling to my mind like barbed wire. My mind feels bruised and beaten, bleeding and tired from the wounds that refuse to heal.

“I don’t know,” I murmur (almost listlessly) when Sunjata suddenly turns the conversation to me, my lips moving after a long moment of silence. My eyes are still trained on the forest floor, shadowed by the curtain of my long forelock. Through the gossamer walls, I can feel the stallion’s eyes on me, my skin prickling as it has done from the numerous stares of men before (wanting gazes of shallow emotions and carnal desires). However, when I finally force myself to meet his eye, tilting my head just enough so that my hair falls to the side, I don’t see these hollow requests within his expression.

I have almost forgotten what it’s like to hold a man’s attention without the looming requests of flesh and satisfaction.

My ears flick back—unused to holding someone’s alert, genuine attention—before I continue, breathing deeply from my nose. “I’ve only just recently come to Helovia myself…I don’t know anything of the religion or its people,” I can feel my lips trying to twist into something of a smirk, but it feels stiff even to me, unnatural. “I don’t have much faith when it comes to Gods,” the words blurt out themselves, embroiled in the chaos of my thoughts and controlled by little sense of direction. With the taste of bile on my tongue, I think of the Father, and how he had not been so different from a perverted, tyrannical god. “They tend to be little more than over-glorified people who demand to be revered for nothing else but their glory. There is nothing done that would actually merit such blind veneration,” I shake my head, disgust ghosting over my face.

Too late, I realize that maybe I have spoken too much—too boldly. For all I know, Sunjata might be a very holy man, and worship all the gods in the world for their sacredness. Nervous now that I might have offended him, I shrink into myself, my shoulders folding inward while my head falls. “But that’s just me,” I murmur tentatively, turning my face away from his reaction.


“Speech.”
mihtal

image | coding
 @Sunjata
please tag Mihtal in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.


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